An Illusionist's Tale
by Onionmaster
Summary: A gnome illusionist travels outside of the Hosttower of the Arcane in Luskan, and finds life isn't as easy outside as it is in the city! Based on the Drizzt Do'urden series's. Takes place in Faerun. I just put it here because it's all about OCs.
1. Chapter 1

A single gnome walked along a rough stone path, her only companion a small firefly perched on her shoulder. The flat tundra of Icewind Dale rolled out in every direction around her, stopped only by the high mountains of the Spine of the World that surrounded the whole area protectively.

A thick mat of gray clouds obscured the sky, promising rain later. The gnome had made her journey to Icewind Dale in the heat of midsummer in an attempt to get the finest weather possible in the frozen land. It seemed, though, that every season was miserable here - winter, autumn, and spring encased in ice, and summer rainy and muddy.

An ugly rug of yellowed grass, accentuated by the occasional hill or mud puddle, covered the Dale, the only repose from it being a poorly-paved stone road leading straight to Targos, the closest member of Ten-Towns to the gnome's destination.

Although it was summer, it still wasn't as warm as the traveler would've liked. The gnome wrapped her woolen green cloak around herself tightly and pulled her hood farther over her head, covering her brown hair. Although she also wore a long-sleeved white shirt, long brown pants, and warm black boots, it was all she could do to not be soaked by rain and frozen by wind until she could make it to an inn - which, thankfully, wasn't too far at this point.

The gnome had traveled far from the Host Tower of the Arcane in Luskan, a bustling port town to the south of Icewind Dale, along the Sword Coast. As an aspiring mage(and an avid collector of wands), she had taken some time off her studies to head farther north and meet Addedearber, the famed wand maker of Icewind Dale.

A loud ringing noise like a bell suddenly went off in her head. Her magical defenses had detected something over to the right, and she glanced around to see what it might be.

It was easy enough to find it, though, at least once the creature in question had leaped out of its hiding place behind a hill and roared a roar loud enough to wake the entire city of Waterdeep.

The gnome squealed and her firefly familiar buzzed up in surprise as she took notice of the best. Big, shaggy, white, with a dripping maw filled with sharp teeth. A yeti, the gnome recalled, a beast actually quite common this far north.

With another roar, the yeti rushed foward, swinging a claw straight for its tiny prey. Thinking fast, the gnome leaped back, quick on her toes, and reached a gloved hand back into her cloak to withdraw a small, velvet pouch. The yeti charged yet again, growling as it swung its other paw. The gnome danced back again, her cloak fluttering behind her, and pulled on the string of the pouch, opening it up and reaching inside. The yeti wasn't having any of it, though. Although it had no idea what its prey could possibly have been doing, it was quite aware of the fact that it wasn't yet in its stomach. It charged one more time, this time swinging both paws in an attempt to grab the gnome...

...Instead receiving a faceful of golden powder. It stopped, blinking, not really understanding what had just happened. At least, not until the golden powder suddenly flared a bright light right into its eyes. It stumbled backwards, dazed and confused. The gnome silently cheered and put the velvet pouch back, withdrawing yet another little pouch, this one a brown leather. She withdrew a pinch of rainbow colored dust, made of ground stained windows, and tossed it right into the yeti's face yet again.

The yeti, already confused, already particularly weak to magic, and already incredibly simple-minded, simply could not comprehend the sudden kalaedoscopic burst of color that filled its eyes and promptly fell over, knocked out cold.

The gnome put back her pouch and grimaced at the knocked-out, drooling yeti, wishing she could've just put it out for good. Alas, the gnome was an illusionist, an enchantress, and a diviner - no evoker of elemental power, or conjuror of demons and spirits. She could barely even cast a magic missile, the simplest of offensive spells. Though she could disable and impair an enemy, killing it was a different story.

Fortunately, the gnome was no fool, and knew how to deal with simple beasts. She withdrew a small golden-white wooden wand from her cloak, the opposite side from which her pouches and pockets of spell components hung, and pointed it at the sleeping yeti. She muttered a single trigger word. The air began to hum with magical energy as the wand did its work, picking up the shaggy beast with a hand of pure force. Gritting her teeth with the effort, the gnome slowly moved her wand, the hovering body of the snow monster moving with it, finally dropping the beast behind the hill it was behind before.

Then, the sorceress walked over in front of the yeti, withdrawing yet another pouch, this time of sparkling purple dust, and getting a pinch between her fingers. She stomped deep into the muddy grass, really working her feet in to make an indention, and made extremely conspicuous tracks, trickling the dust onto the ground as she went. After about ten stomps, she nodded, looking over her handiwork, and tossed the rest of the dust off in the general direction of the empty dale.

To any normal person, these indentions would look, well, just like that - really conspicuous foot indentions. But to the yeti, as soon as he woke up, he would see a long set of tracks, traveling indefinitely into the distance in a straight line, stopping only at the mountains. Such was the power of illusion, Amyie Silverslink noted with a smile. If you can't beat it, join it - or, in an illusionist's case, trick it.


	2. Chapter 2

When the small, wooden and stone buildings appeared atop the crest of a small hill along the old stone road, Amyie was relieved. When the sounds and smells of Targos reached her ears and nose as she neared the entrance, she was happy. When she finally made it inside the town proper, she felt at least a little bit at home.

But after about ten minutes in the bar, she was more than a little irritated. The bar's patrons were loud and rowdy, punching each other playfully and shouting stupid jokes about yetis, fish, and women across the room. More than just a few bar-goers had bumped into her - quite hard, in fact - and not a single one had offered an apology. With a sigh, she hopped up onto a barstool and irritably placed a gold coin on the table, ordering a glass of the finest wine and informing the barkeep that yes, she'd be having a room, and that she expected the best steak in the house in it when she got there. Too happy about the gold coin to make a snide comment in return to Amyie's foul manners, the barkeep simply danced away, marveling over it, and slid out a bottle of fine elven wine, procured, as he said, by simply commenting a kind elven visitor's hat. He went off on the elves' generosity, beauty, and fine smithing for a few minutes - receiving only a few grunts in return - before accepting his rich customer wasn't really listening and simply pouring the wine into the glass silently.

And Amyie wasn't listening, much more interested in the pouring bottle of wine and in the lack of energy in her limbs. She picked up the glass wordlessly and took a sip. She glanced around the bar hoping to find someone interesting to pay attention to as she drank. Unfortunately enough, as she had expected, she only saw what she had before. Drunks, farmers, fishermen, a few adventurers, and a man boasting loudly about his exploits with an angry tribe of hobgoblins, a man who told the biggest lies Amyie had heard since Gilford the Green told her he'd built a golem out of flesh, metal, and clay all in one.

A tall, slender man in a dark cloak and a big, strong man in dark robes wearing a metal necklace with a symbol on it - a holy symbol of Gond, she recalled. She watched them for a bit before noticing the telltale hum of mystical energy resonating from the cloaked man's sheathed scimitars. She rose an eyebrow at that. Most people here didn't have magical artifacts – most people here didn't even have magic – and fewer still wielded scimitars. She recognized them from her days in Calimport, but not even in Luskan, a powerful and bustling port city, did many wield such strange and exotic weapons.

Suddenly Amyie's irritation was replaced by curiosity. She looked around, noticing the majority of people all engaged in business. She glanced back over to the barkeep, who was busying himself cleaning a glass. Of course he would notice most things Amyie did, and probably wouldn't be too happy about her pulling out fairly obvious magical items and staring at strange cloaked men. She needed a distraction - and what kind of illusionist would she be, she noticed with a small smile, if she could not distract a simple-minded barkeep?

The gnome slipped a small silver whistle out of her pocket, looking it over silently so as not to gather unwanted attention. She glanced around, almost imperceptibly, and found that yes, she wasn't being watched. Taking advantage of it, she swiftly brought it to her lips and blew, hoping nobody was watching.

Thankfully, no one was, and the small whistle's dweomer was allowed to act itself out without interruption. As Amyie blew into the whistle, the sound of a man dropping a pan and cursing rang out from the kitchen - soon lost in the din off the inn's common room, of course - and the barkeep turned around to see what was going on. He walked back into the kitchen, and Amyie instantly pulled out another small item, a fine glass monacle with a thin gold frame, and put it up to her eye. She looked right in the direction of the cloaked man's scimitars.

The monacle was, of course, another magical item, that allowed its wearer to see magical enchantments and what they did. It usually even pierced through spells that attempted to hide the enchantment from sight, such as wards, making it quite a useful item - especially against other wizards.

As Amyie looked through the lens, though, she first noticed quite a simple enchantment, but strong. It was an enchantment that made the object it was cast on glow a soft blue. Boring.

The other scimitar was far more interesting, though. This one didn't appear to have a certain affect, though - it was just magical. Probably forged in some alternate plane of ice and cold, the blade would destroy any beings of fire easily, and jump at the chance to. It was strong, too, and active. She could even see it vibrating slightly in the direction of the inn's flaming hearth. She grinned at that.

The interested gnome wizard was drawn from her thoughts by the sound of footsteps as the barkeep returned, scratching his head , probably wondering about what he had heard previously. There had been no fallen pots or pans, no matter how much he'd insisted to the cooks that he had heard it.

Amyie finished her wine with a large gulp and put the glass down. She nodded to the barkeep and informed him she was going to go up to her room now. He nodded back and told her the steak would be right out. Smiling with the thought of a warm meal and a warm bed away from the cold, windy tundra, Amyie went right up to bed.


End file.
